


In the Kitchen

by FlirtyFroggy



Category: Football RPF
Genre: FIFA World Cup 2014, Fluffy Angst, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Resolving some UST, boys being rubbish with feelings, inarticulate Englishmen, moping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyFroggy/pseuds/FlirtyFroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Joe smiled. “If I’m not drinking alone then we should make a toast,” he said and angled his bottle towards David, who clinked his own bottle against it. “To losing,” Joe said, bitterness washing over him again despite the presence of David’s dark eyes and the warmth of their thighs pressed together.</i>
</p><p>Joe's feeling sorry for himself. So is David. Maybe they can cheer each other up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I was scared of writing sex and was totally squicked by RPF. Clearly those days are behind me.
> 
> Written for [this](http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5664224#t5664224) prompt (which was actually my own prompt) at the kink meme and I'm finally getting around to posting it here. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not meant to imply anything about any actual people or their lives. It's just for fun.

Joe had absolutely no intention of answering the door. He didn’t want to see anyone, he didn’t want to speak to anyone, he didn’t want anyone trying to cheer him up. All he was interested in doing was working his way through his third bottle of beer, and tormenting himself by watching the Algeria – Russia match and pondering what it would be like to still be in Brazil. Whoever was at the door continued to knock; Joe continued to ignore them in favour of slumping on the couch. He sat up abruptly, however, when he heard David’s voice.

“Joe, I know you are here. I see light from your TV and also all your windows are open.”

Joe’s heart was pounding as he strode to the door. He told himself it was because he stood up too quickly and not because David Silva was apparently standing on his doorstep when Joe had thought he was in Spain. “What are you, fucking Sherlock Holmes?” he said as he pulled the door open. David looked as tired as Joe felt, his shoulders hunched and eyes heavy. The smile he gave Joe seemed to come easily though. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Joe, his forehead resting on Joe’s chest. Joe returned the hug and they stood unmoving in the doorway as the seconds ticked by. Joe closed his eyes, buried his nose in David’s hair and breathed deeply. “Thought you’d gone home. To Gran Canaria,” he clarified.

“I know where home is, Joe, thank you,” David said with a smile in his voice. “I will go back tomorrow.”

“Come on in then,” Joe said, stepping back and gripping David’s arm briefly. “You want a beer?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. David nodded and drifted off towards the living room.

When Joe returned a couple of minutes later armed with two beers he found David on the couch, staring blankly at the TV in much the same way Joe had been doing ever since he got home. He sat next to David and passed him one of the bottles. David indicated the collection of empties on the coffee table. “Is bad to drink alone, Joe.”

“No, it’s bad to get drunk alone,” Joe corrected. “Drinking alone is perfectly fine. Necessary, even.”

David looked like he was actually giving this some consideration. Eventually he nodded. “Perhaps. Anyway, I am here now, so you do not have to do either of those things alone.”

Joe smiled. “If I’m not drinking alone then we should make a toast,” he said and angled his bottle towards David, who clinked his own bottle against it. “To losing,” Joe said, bitterness washing over him again despite the presence of David’s dark eyes and the warmth of their thighs pressed together.

“To losing,” David echoed.

They watched the match in comfortable silence for a while, David leaning into Joe, fitting perfectly. Joe wondered what was wrong with them, why they would do this to themselves, why they were wallowing in their defeats and moping over Algeria versus fucking Russia, for Christ’s sake. “Reckon a psychologist’d have a field-day with us,” he said.

“Que?” David said, blinking out of his reverie and turning to Joe with a frown. Even now David struggled at times, when he was tired or upset or just not really paying attention. It took him an extra few seconds work out what had been said, and sometimes he just missed the meaning entirely. Judging by his blank expression, this was one of those times.

“We shouldn’t be watching this,” Joe said, gesturing at the TV. “We should be, you know, moving on, putting it behind us. All that jazz.”

“Ah, yes. Everyone say this. ‘Put it behind you’. As if it were a physical thing and you can just push it away and it will be gone. People who say this do not play in World Cup, I think.”

“Hmm,” Joe said, thinking about the knot that had formed in his chest as Suarez’ ball had flown past his fingertips. “But it is though, isn’t it? A physical thing. It’s just that it’s too heavy to be pushed away.” David nodded in agreement, took a swig of his beer and settled back against the cushions. Silence descended again.

Half-time was looming when David spoke again. “It was…” he trailed off and frowned. Joe had the impression that he wasn’t even sure of the word he wanted in Spanish let alone English. “I do not know how to say. Not embarrassing. More than that. We wanted to hide, after. Not see anyone. Not be seen.”

Joe didn’t want to say it, as if by not saying the word he could somehow save David from the feeling. But he knew that wasn’t how it worked. “Humiliating,” he said.

“Ah, yes.” David closed his eyes “Humiliating, yes. We were humiliated. To play well and get beaten by a good opponent, well, is not good, but I can live with this. Is football. But to lose like we did. Twice.” He opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Joe. “You disagree.”

Joe thought back to the crushing silence in the locker room after the Uruguay match, to all the lads crowding round the TV in Lampsy’s room to urge Italy on as their chances trickled away with every passing minute. He thought about hope and futility and playing your heart out only to end up with nothing. “Pretty sure there’s no good way to lose,” he managed eventually.

“I know it does not change anything, but you guys did play well. You just were unlucky,” David said, resting his hand on Joe’s for a moment. “We were not unlucky. Did you watch?”

Did he watch? David was on the pitch, of course he watched. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from a single brutal, agonising second of it. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I saw all your matches.”

“Yes, you see.” David gave a sigh that made Joe’s heart clench. “Everyone see. Everyone talk. Everyone…” David trailed off and waved his hand around.

“Everyone can go fuck themselves,” Joe said decidedly. David snorted and Joe thought he saw a hint of a smile so he kept going. “Seriously, none of the people talking shit have done half of what you guys have done. So fuck ‘em.”

“I thought they were to fuck themselves,” David said with a definite smile. Joe cuffed him lightly round the back of the head.

“Smartarse,” he said. “You want another drink?” he added as the whistle blew for half-time. Joe had hardly touched his beer and it would be warm and gross by now. David looked at the bottle in his hand and looked surprised to find it empty.

“Sure, okay.” David’s fingers brushed over Joe’s wrist and he smiled up at him. Joe swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He muttered something about the kitchen before practically running out of the room.

Joe beat his head very gently against the fridge door. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake, and yet whenever David smiled at him he turned into a fucking teenage girl with a crush. He really needed to pull himself together. He retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge, turned round and nearly jumped out of his skin to find David behind him, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Jesus Christ. You should wear a fucking bell around your neck, you know that?”

“Sorry,” David said, entirely unrepentant. They looked at each other for a long moment, silence stretching out between them. “I forgot to say, when I arrived. It is very good to see you, Joe. I have missed you.” Joe stared at him, trying to control his heartrate, wondering how this had happened, how David had done this to him; how David had walked into Carrington four years ago with a quiet smile and a World Cup winner’s medal in his pocket and made everything so much better and so much worse. 

“Hey, have you learned nothing about English blokes, Silva? You should know you can’t suddenly spring emotional stuff on us like that without warning.” Joe’s voice didn’t sound nearly as steady as he would have liked.

David laughed. “Joe,” he said with a voice so full of affection it made Joe’s throat tight. Joe walked over to him and handed him one of the bottles of beer. David lifted it to his lips and took a long swig, his eyes on Joe the whole time.

“I missed you too,” Joe said, his eyes lingering on David’s lips, which now glistened with beer. He raised his eyes in time to see David’s gaze flick down to Joe’s mouth and then back again. Joe leaned forward and placed his beer on the counter behind David.

He didn’t know if this was a mistake, didn’t know if he was ruining everything, but he was so tired of wanting things he couldn’t have; of wondering what if, what if. Fortune favours the brave. If you don’t try you’ll never know. He tucked two fingers under David’s chin, tipped his head back and brought their mouths together. For a moment, David went totally still beneath him and panic shot through him. He’d blown it. He’d misread everything and now it would just be stilted conversation in training, the occasional friendly arm around the shoulder as they walked off the pitch if he was lucky. Then he heard the thud of David’s drink being set down and felt a hand wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his head down, and the kiss went from hesitant to frantic in a heartbeat.

David’s hands and mouth were everywhere, fingers tugging at Joe’s hair and shirt, his lips burning across Joe’s collarbone and up his neck. Joe fumbled with David’s shirt as David licked into his mouth and finally managed to get his hands on that glorious, glorious skin he had spent so much time trying not to look at in the locker room. David moaned into his mouth and gripped his shoulders hard, trying to pull him closer, as though he would pull him right inside himself if he could. Joe’s hands fell to David’s belt and he struggled with the buckle, alcohol and desire making him clumsy. He felt teeth scrape his neck and his hips tilted forward of their own accord, his growing hardness pressing against David. He felt rather than heard David’s answering gasp.

“Joe. Joe. _Joder_ ,” David said, pulling away as best he could when Joe had him pinned against the kitchen counter. “Joe, wait. Is this – this is what you want?” Joe slowed his hands and looked at him. “I mean, you want – you want – this is not just because you are sad or, or drunk or… You want this? You want me?”

Joe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or how to tell David that he had wanted this ever since the day almost four years ago when he had turned up for training in August wearing a fucking scarf. He pressed his forehead against David’s and closed his eyes. “Of course I want this, are you out of your fucking mind? I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he finished on a whisper.

“Okay,” David whispered back. Joe opened his eyes to find David grinning at him “That is good. That is very good.” Then he attacked Joe’s mouth again, teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

Joe’s back was already starting to ache from bending down to David and he really could not give a fuck. Not when David’s tongue was tracing patterns on his chest and his nails were scraping at his back and his hips were starting to rock gently against him. He finally got David’s belt undone and slipped his hands round to cup David’s arse through his boxers, pulling him hard against him. They both groaned at the contact and David’s hands flew to Joe’s belt. Joe pushed one hand into David’s hair and pulled him up for another kiss as he slid the other hand under the waistband of David’s underwear. His fingertips just brushed the top of David’s cleft and he was rewarded with another delicious moan into his mouth.

“Bedroom,” Joe gasped, tearing his mouth away from David’s. “I don’t have anything down here.” David kissed him again and Joe succumbed for a second before pulling away. “We need to – bedroom.”

“In my pocket,” David said, shifting slightly and digging into his jeans. He pressed a small tube and a condom into Joe’s hand and a distant part of Joe’s mind noted that David had come prepared, but then David got his flies undone and the thought vanished.

David placed his hands on Joe’s chest and pushed gently, just enough for Joe to take a step back so there was some air between them. Then, his eyes never leaving Joe’s, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushed his jeans and underwear down in one quick motion. Joe looked at him, standing there in Joe’s kitchen with his pants around his knees, his swollen cock standing erect against his stomach, shirt hanging off his shoulders, eyes dark and desperate, hair in disarray. He felt his mouth go dry.

“Turn around,” he said, and his voice didn’t even sound like his own. David smiled, turned and leaned over the counter, the movement causing David’s shirt to fall off completely and pool on the floor. For a minute all Joe could do was stare at him, then David looked back over his shoulder and gave him that smile again and Joe was grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head back for a bruising kiss. They were both breathless when Joe finally let him go and David’s shoulders were heaving as he dropped his head down to rest on his forearms.

Joe quickly spread lube over his fingers, and though part of him wanted to take his time and explore David thoroughly they were way past that. He ran a finger over David’s entrance once, twice, and then pressed inside. David gasped and bucked his hips, then groaned as Joe slid his finger in as far as it would go. Joe leaned down and kissed the back of David’s neck, alternately licking, sucking and biting just below the hairline as he thrust his finger in and out of David.

He added a second finger and David bucked his hips again and let out a moan that had Joe’s cock twitching against the fabric of his boxer shorts. He used his free hand to push his jeans and underwear over his hips and palmed his aching cock. It brushed against David’s arse and he couldn’t help pushing forward slightly so it slipped along the cleft and pressed against the fingers that were stretching David. “Fuck, David. Fuck,” he murmured against David’s trembling back. A distant voice in his head said he should slow down, take it easy, prepare David more. But the way David was moaning and pushing himself back onto Joe’s fingers said something else. Joe added a third finger and David arched his back and let loose a stream of Spanish, the meaning of which was perfectly clear even if Joe didn’t know most of the words.

Joe slid his fingers out to a disappointed whine from David and unwrapped the condom with shaking hands. He put it on with only a little difficulty and then lined himself up at David’s entrance. He rested his forehead against David’s shoulder and slowly pushed forward, and god he was so tight, so tight, and Joe could hardly breathe. “Joe, Joe, _dios, dios_ , Joe,” David gasped when Joe was fully inside him. “Joe, please.” Never able to deny David anything, Joe began to rock his hips.

The angle was terrible. Joe was too tall, or David was too short, and the kitchen counter was too high for David to bend over it properly, so Joe had to half-crouch, half-bend to thrust properly and get some purchase. But it was David arching and moaning and writhing beneath him, and David pushing back to meet his thrusts, and David begging him for more, and it was wonderful and perfect and everything and nothing that Joe had imagined. He braced one hand against David’s hip and one against the counter and gripped them both hard as he drove into David again and again, spurred on by David’s cries.

He could feel his orgasm building, coiling inside him and he took his hand off David’s hip, snaked it through his hair and pulled. David turned his head, craned his neck round so his mouth met Joe’s. The kiss quickly devolved into just panting into each other’s mouths as Joe’s thrusts grew more frantic. “David, I’m going to – touch yourself. Please. I want – fuck,” Joe gasped, and could tell David had done as he asked by the way his shoulder jerked and his moans grew even more fractured. It wasn’t long before David was crying out and shuddering beneath him, and Joe was right on the edge and David clenching around his cock just pushed him straight over and he screamed his orgasm into David’s skin.

They both lay slumped face-down over the counter, completely spent, for several long minutes. Joe’s heart was thudding in his chest and he could feel David’s echoing in counterpoint beneath him. David started to push himself up, and Joe peeled himself away from his back and pulled out with a groan as his cock started to soften. His legs felt decidedly wobbly so he slid to the floor and sat with his back against the dishwasher. He slipped the condom off, tied a knot in it and threw it in the general direction of the bin as David sat down beside him. Joe leaned his head back and tried to catch his breath. Beside him David did the same. “Feel better?” Joe asked.

“About the World Cup? Not really,” David said, sounding completely wrecked. A shiver ran up Joe’s spine. “About other things, yes. Much better.”

Joe felt a grin spreading over his face. “Good. Me too.” He turned to look at David and found David already looking at him, a dopey smile on his face, looking thoroughly shagged out. Joe felt laughter bubbling up in him. They were sitting on Joe’s kitchen floor, trousers round their ankles, shirt buttons scattered everywhere; there was come all over David’s stomach and even the kitchen island for crying out loud; there was a used condom in the corner where Joe had missed the bin by several feet. It should all feel sordid and dirty, and yet somehow it didn’t, couldn’t. Not when David was looking at him like that, like he was something wonderful.

“What is funny?” David asked, smiling wider.

“Not funny. Just…” Not for the first time, Joe didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to explain even to himself how this made him feel, how David made him feel. “I’m just glad you’re here.” It was nothing like what he really meant. Not even close.

“I am glad I’m here too,” David said. He rubbed his neck and rolled his head around. “Maybe not on the kitchen floor though. I should have let you take me to bed.” He flashed a grin that could only be described as wicked.

“We could do that now,” Joe suggested. “I mean, what time’s your flight tomorrow? You could, I mean, do you want to?” Joe cursed himself and his sudden nervousness.

“I can stay,” David said, entangling his fingers with Joe’s. “I would like to.”

“Right. Okay then,” Joe said inanely, staring at where David had just casually taken his hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, did you come here for me?”

David blinked at him. “No, Joe, I came to your house looking for Wayne Rooney.”

Joe tugged at a strand of David’s hair, “Don’t be clever. I meant, did you come back to Manchester for me? You flew back with your team, didn’t you? You’re going Gran Canaria tomorrow, there was no need for you to come here. Why aren’t you in Spain?”

David gave him another of those smiles that felt like a kick to the chest. “Yes, I come here for you. I wanted to see you.” Joe had absolutely nothing to say to that, so he lowered his head and kissed David as slowly and thoroughly as he had always wanted to. When they eventually broke apart, David had that slightly dazed look on his face again.

“Did you plan this?” Joe said, suddenly remembering. David frowned at him. “You had a condom and lube in your pocket. Were you planning to seduce me?” he teased.

“No, no planning. Just hoping,” David said softly. “Always I hope for you, Joe.”

There were a thousand questions Joe wanted to ask, starting with ‘How long is always? Could we have been doing this all this time?’ Instead he said, “Well, there’s no need to hope anymore. You can seduce me any time you like.”

“That is very good to know,” David said, and leaned in to claim Joe’s lips once more.


End file.
